From a little window in the far corner of that busy coffee shop he watched the passersby, his eyes following their movement however looking through them, beyond as the phone call he had just hung up from replayed countless times in his head.

‘’Hello?’’

‘’______…’’

‘’Jungkook…hi.’’

‘’……hi.’’

Silence.

‘’Can you meet me downstairs? I’m at…our place.’’

‘’Okay.’’

‘’Okay.’’

Call duration: 00:01:06.

He could tell by her voice, it’s not the same. Something has changed. Her tender tone which only hid behind it affectionate undertones now tried to mask something, something he had come to know well: fear.

She knew. He knew she knew. She knew he knew she knew. But she hoped she was wrong, whilst he hoped he wasn’t.

It’s not an easy call, how could it ever be? Loving someone shouldn’t be painful, but in his situation it wasn’t either hurt or be hurt, it was hurt and be hurt. His choice, however, was to pick which would hurt the most. Of course, he chose the latter for himself. He’d pain her momentarily with his departure, but he’d allow her a new start once he was gone. The inevitable end would come sooner than expected, but if that meant shortening her sorrows…he’d endure.

She was beautiful. She’s always been. He’s reassured himself of that every night he’d lay awake simply gazing at her peaceful deep sleep state before entering his own. She was the first thing he’d see in the morning, the last thing he’d see every night. And that’ll remain, in some manner. He has no doubts that thoughts of her will be the first he’s greeted with every morning from  now on and the last ones to haunt him in the depths of night. He’ll be left only with her memories. She’ll come to exist only in his memories. Perhaps…that’s how it was meant to be.

She’s now sat across him.  Her bare face porting a pink hue as the cold wind gushed across the delicate skin. Skin which he’d never feel under his fingertips again.

‘’You should buy warmer clothes soon. The winds are already changing.’’

She nods. Petite hands wrapping around the medium cup of macchiato she’d always order on these cold Sunday mornings. She doesn’t sip.

Silence falls upon them yet again, every second worsening the burning sensation that spread across his chest. He wanted to scream. Shout. He wanted to fling himself into her arms which to him were always open, ready to harbor him into her safe embrace, stored away from reality and everything that was taking place.

‘’When are you leaving?’’

She asked, eyes fixed on the still untouched coffee in her hold.

‘’Tonight.’’

There’s a pause.

‘’_______–’’

‘’You don’t have to say anything.’’

Her soft spoken words cut him off, eyes finally trailing upwards, though it’s not it’s his that avoid her gaze. Her lips bitterly curl. He can’t stand the sight.

‘’I’ll never forget you, but I’ll never forgive you.’’

At that moment time stops. The busy rustling of the cafe is drowned out, the passing cars visible from their window seeming impossibly distant, only her words continue to echo around him. Physical pain manifests itself once more as he finds that breathing has become a difficult task. He chokes, unable to speak, only offering his guilt ridden silence. Everything goes numb.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been, but when his eyes finally open again she’s no longer there.

In some way, neither is he.